ASS 'Crispy Fried With Onions'
by tigersilver
Summary: Hogwarts Era. Love unrequited and academic ambitions do not mix well, as two dormmates and BFFs discover. Add to that Al Potter's Scorpius inflicted disbility and there's trouble in paradise. Title, btb, has nothing to do with the premise, sorry.


ASS 'Crispy-Fried, with Onions'

Pairing: ASS

Era: Hogwarts

Word Count: 10,700

Warnings/Summary: _AS/S Japan Fic for Susan5124, the Graciously Patient. Warning! This title has very little to do with the fic. Absolutely nothing, in fact. Also, there are two other fics with a very similar premise—Al having some sort of speech defect—so yes, I'm aware and make my bows accordingly, but this also different again. _

Scorpius Lucius Hyperion Arcturus Malfoy (blond, grey-eyed and aged sixteen, of Ravenclaw House, Hogwarts School, to clarify) routinely inspired a species of specius sputter in one Albus Severus Potter. Seriously, the poor Potter boy could barely utter a coherent word when within his best friend's close physical proximity. That was within two to three yards, on a bad day; six to twelve inches on a better.

It was a given, this phenomena, something entirely understood between the two of them and an effect discovered quite early in their long-term relationship, perhaps as even early as the initial Express journey in their very first year. Scorp made Al stutter; end of story.

However, they were young, willing and quite flexible. Scorpius excelled early on at the Wizarding version of Charades. Albus, obligingly enough, learnt (and then taught his mate) the universal sign language the Muggles employed. Accordingly, Albus and his bestest mate, his first real friend, often carried on for excessively long periods of time without actually saying much of note, or much at all, for that matter.

To each other.

This minor hiccup in spoken communications made for deathly silent shared study sessions in the Library; indirectly it earned them scads of good behaviour points from Headmistress McGonagall for Ravenclaw House overall ('Such a fine pair of young gentlemen,' she'd note slyly in passing, seeing them speechlessly huddled together at table over piles of accelerated texts and tomes and nodding her grey head with a sharp-chinned approval, 'ever so quiet, you two boys, and nothing at all like your two fathers before you, thank Merlin!') Their peer's reactions varied, though: some joked, ad nauseum; some went leagues out of their way actively express pity over poor Albus's 'handicap' and to 'help' him 'cope with it' (he needed no help, thanks!), but most simply accepted it as a minor behavioural quirk and nothing to Owl home about.

Family, of course, reacted differently. On Scorpius' part, that reaction was negligible; indeed, non-existent. He was an only child and possessed no annoying siblings to report home the exact oddities of his relationship with that Potter boy. His papa was seldom in company with his best mate, so there was no static there. His mum was in France, and had been for as long as he could recall.

Albus Potter, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. Although his mum (his mother being remarried to another and not much in the picture, either; fancy) was a bit leery of the situation (specifically, 'the Malfoy Effect', as she darkly termed it), she did accept it and not fuss over much. Albus's father did the very best thing of all: he paid no mind at all to whether or not Al and Scorp conversed aloud or whether they didn't.

It was Al's elder brother and baby sister who generated the most botheration. Couldn't leave it alone, either of them. His and Scorpius's state of perpetual close quietude elicited snorts, jeers and rude remarks from one James Potter, the older by two years or so. This, the same annoying git who practically crapped Gryffindor scarlet-and-gold, so House-proud and smarmier than thou was he–'Cussed sly little shits!' he'd snarl nastily at them both, bumping their thin preadolescent persons with a bruising elbow on his way past them in corridors. 'Think you're all that, you little pricks, with your stupid secrets and your sodding silly silence!'

Really, Al concluded, James _was _downrightunpleasant; he treated Al's issue as if it were a personal affront—and laid all the blame squarely (_unfairly_, fumed Al) on poor Scorpius.

Lily, (_dear_ Lily, Albus's youngest sibling and arguably the most evil of them all); she was the opposite. Diametrically. Lily didn't jeer. She snorfled and snickered, yes; pointed and whispered, muttered and teased and generally made a proper deal over her golden big brother Albus's one tiny little Malfoy-inspired defect. This, he and Scorpius concluded, was mainly because, as a both a Slytherin and a little sister, she _could_. She was _required_ to tease Al, really, simply due to accident of birth, but—she meant them no real harm—no malice. Al and Scorp both acknowledged that and were good with it, actually.

James they both hated and despised, naturally. He deserved it.

Because Albus Potter was alright otherwise; perfectly normal, in fact. Better than. Smashing, actually, and a social success story who routinely eclipsed even his older brother in popularity. Handsome, charming, soul of his year's party, always laughing and joking, the jewel and pride of Ravenclaw House, absolutely…providing Scorpius Malfoy wasn't acting as his personal satellite, as he so often did.

Al _with_ Scorp and Al _without_ Scorp was like two different people.

Without Scorp, he accumulated mates like so many trading cards, but he took better care of them then James (the Prat) ever did. He'd more mates than he could comfortably count, in more Houses than either of his two siblings and Scorp combined and was admittedly hugely popular even within his own rather strict, stern House, being Seeker for his Team. Best Ravenclaw Seeker ever, actually.

Was touted as not too bad a looker, besides. Didn't hurt that he possessed the lion's share of the Potter hair and the Evans eyes, either. Didn't even require contacts or a stylist to ape the Hero's famous looks, Albus, as did all the other little Potter wannabes being schooled at Hogwarts. (There were any number of 'Harrys' in their year, including a huge lot of Slytherin ones. It was poor Harry Flint and the equally benighted Harry Yaxley (distant relations to the Death Eaters only; those DE sods were absolutely _not_ in the position to reproduce) that were the real victims of the craze to 'be' a Potter.

But all celebrity brouhaha aside, Al was a shoo-in in the hearts of the younger set of Ravens, simply for being both a kind-hearted boy and a willing, walking encyclopedia of ready-made answers. Al _ate_ books.

And the girls of Hogwarts—boys, as well—ate up Al just like sweets, walking.

He was the only boy in Sixth Form who could claim to have dated more people per capita than the incredibly popular (almost iconic) Head Boy, one Apollyon Midas Gabor-Zabini, who routinely wowed the school's grapevine into a tizzy with _his_ sexual exploits. As Apollyon was the blessedly gorgeous product of a Veela named Zsa Zsa and the legendary Blaise Zabini, and conceived as result of a brief romantic secret tryst during the elder Zabini's lightning visit to Bulgaria, this was quite understandable. Apollyon was the bee's knees. Al was the bee's _kneecaps_, to carry the simile over stile and row and unto the next shire.

Which was _not_ to say Scorpius Malfoy was in any way deficient, even as compared directly to his afflicted best mate. No, _no_! Scorpius Malfoy was also a kind-hearted boy, described as both 'charming' and 'fearfully bright' by his elders and the Profs. His striking looks and height gained him notoriety from the get-go; his innate civility and warm grey eyes kept all who strayed into his sphere captivated even after the initial start of surprise over the Malfoy avatar wore off. For, like his papa a decade or more previous, Scorp had been blessed with more than his fair share of charisma, which left him the strongest same-year contender for Albus's acknowledged legion of admirers. But as neither cared particularly much for toting up tallies of hanger's-on, acquaintances and casual friendships (or even shag stats), neither boy worried much over it.

There was a history to this, oh, yes. Ravenclaw was the key to it, naturally.

In Sixth, they two were focused on far more immediate goals, such as which of them would be chosen for their graduating year's Head Boy position. Apollyon's matriculation would create a huge gap; both were eager to fill it. This even before career planning, but really just as a logical precursor. Head Boys and Girls were snapped up by the venerated higher institutions of Wizarding lore (and the Ministry) before a person could even say 'Snap!'

Scorpius was leaning towards Archeology; Albus toward Higher Arithromancy. Scorp was looking to Flamel on a full scholarship; Al had his heart set on Morgana U, walking in an automatic Proctor.

It is often the case with the best of friends: they spur one another on to ever greater achievements, simply by routinely existing.

Scorpius, thus, was Albus's steady rival in all things _academic_; they'd fight to death over that Head Boy role and both knew it—but politely. Not in Quidditch, of course (Scorp was the happy Keeper for Ravenclaw and a fine one, too, being lanky, deft and long-limbed like his papa), but absolutely in every other course and every other extracurricular activity. As 'friendly rivals', naturally, so the pranks each one played on the other generally didn't involve trainers stuffed full of fresh sticky Kneazle crap or the bribing of Peeves to pour vats of sapphire dye on unsuspecting freshly-robed compatriots. And-despite severe temptation on Al's part—it didn't even call (much) for the use of the notably wicked 'second tier' set of parlour tricks and gags freely available from his Dad's and Uncle George's joke shop, W3. No, no—it was always quite sportsmanlike and gentlemanly, the ways in which they competed…and very discreet.

Very few of their schoolmates realized that this huge bone of contention lay between them, submerged in a nasty crocodilian manner, just waiting to rear up, snapping jaws and life-long friendships both, just as so many unwary ducklings. But…it did do, yes.

It did. Wait, that was. And with waiting, burgeon to evil flower…

"Hullo, sweet," Amanda Ashleigh Winifred Bones-Proudfoot slid into the empty seat on Albus's right in the Sixth Year's shared Transfigurations class. "Miss me, then?"

She bussed him on the cheek and stole his inked quill handily, running the feather tip across her pink, moist lips before returning it to him with a little squeeze of her pink-polished fingertips. Albus only grinned at her, suitably pink-cheeked in reply. Mandy Bones-Proudfoot was all girl, thanks ever so, and the diamond of Ravenclaw, if not all of Sixth Form's female population.

She favoured pink, which did her 'milk-maid of yore' good looks justice.

"Go on with you, Mandy," he scolded affectionately; she was decent bint and pretty. "How ever could I? We just had lunch together not ten minutes ago!"

"It's too bad of you," Amanda pouted. "You didn't!"

Albus was a logical young man, of course. How could one miss a person one had literally just sat with for upwards on an hour? Mandy was always right there! More even than Scorpius, it seemed.

"Sco-Sco-Scor?" Al attempted. "O-_Oi_!" Swallowed hard and clamped his lips shut, distressed.

Scorp, situated hard upon Albus's other hip, carefully edged his chair legs a careful eight additional inches back and away from Al's seat without so much as scraping them rudely on the flagstones. A gap appeared between them, noticeably.

Scorp, naturally—after all this time- was past master at the fine art of giving Albus sufficient room to breathe. To wit, the chance to converse freely without stuttering like an imbecile. Besides, Mandy Bones was Al's latest and shiniest of girlfriends and she likely didn't realize how it worked between them. She was Ravenclaw, yes, but she'd always been a 'girly' girl and not much for the antics of the boys.

Scorp, in his role of best mate, had no intention of raining on Al's latest parade intentionally.

He'd different parades in mind. Big game, as it were. Larger prey.

Relieved, Al breathed a silent sigh of eternal gratitude over the lengthened distance between him and his thoughtful best mate. He grinned across the space and jogged his elbow familiarly, though it didn't quite make contact with Scorp's ribs.

"Right, Scorp? D-Didn't we?"

Which is also why, in fact, when Al turned his head fully to seek him out for agreement, having not instantly received it, Scorp was already apparently deep in discussion with Kaspar Patel over the chances of the Hornets trompling the Wallabies and whether Quodpot would ever truly be taken seriously on the Continent, and was thus technically unavailable to respond, being already occupied chatting. In fact, he was _so_ involved with refuting Kaspar's claims over disreputable twenty year old scoring techniques used in the Americas, he failed to even so much as peep over at his friend.

Albus frowned at obdurate nape presented him, momentarily stymied. "H-Huh," he grunted softly and considered leaning over and actually poking Scorp in the ribs with his quill. "Er-um? Sc-Scorp?"

"Oh, never mind that, Al. I'll just take it as read you didn't then," Mandy snorted. "Since you've had head practically up Malfoy's arse, here."

"Oh-ah?" Al's eyebrows rose skywards. "Er, erm?" He hadn't! They'd only been revising, as usual—what _was_ Mandy thinking?

Girls, for all they were soft and sweet and tasty, were a bit…frustrating for Albus. He was accustomed to placid silence; they were all about the chatter.

"Go on with you," she continued, mysteriously. "Was only teasing." She smiled and Al took heart.

"Well, anyway, Mandy," he swung back to his girlfriend du jour and got on with the business of small talk girls—and some boys, to be fair-seemed to be so enamoured of, his tiny bid to include Scorp into it all disappointingly unsuccessful. He'd have liked Scorp to make acquaintance with Mandy. She was prime, but no matter. He shrugged, wrinkling his forehead inquiringly. "Um? Want to take a stroll down 'round Lake later? See the new Squid? Er, ah—" he hesitated, "with me?"

"You!" Mandy burst out into an excited spate of giggles. "You! You're so funny, Al!" Her eyes softened instantly and she cocked her dimpled chin, smiling softly. "Squids—hah! But…cute. Very cute."

Al blushed. "Um…Squids are fascinating, Mandy," he defended his choice. "Very-ah? Active?"

Mandy went off into peals, her cheeks a particularly luscious shade of pink.

It was Albus Potter's unassuming shyness that was the killer hook; that was universally agreed. One glance upward from 'neath that bushy set of coal-black lashes; one glimpse of sparkling emerald green set prominently in an admirably angular face was enough to slay any reluctant resistor. The doe-eyed gaze he affected (being genuinely short-sighted) behind the specs only contributed.

_Boys in specs_, the girls sighed, _were the sweetest thing_. Geeky was the new 'hot.'

(For the record, Scorpius was admired respectively for his remarkably handsome bone structure and his incredible Malfoy hair. _And_ his smile—a white slash that effervesced. And that built-in Malfoy charisma, of course, as noted previously. Also his bum, which was superb. Actually—generally—Scorpius was just plain admired all over. Plus, he _owned_ aplomb, courtesy his dad.)

"Um?" Al tried again to stick to the point, which was to spend time with his girlfriend. "Lake, then?"

"With you? Only you, Albus?"

Al nodded strenuously. Mandy giggled.

"Ah, but who else, lover?" Her laugh turned odd and she slanted her eyes towards Al's best mate. The giggle like silver bells tinkling. She tossed her miles of flaxen hair over one slim shapely shoulder. "Not dragging along your pet, this time? No ready-made chaperone?"

"Huh?" Al crinkled his forehead, not quite comprehending. "Whatever are you on about?"

"Hmmm." She shook her head, hissing sorrowfully, her pink lips pursed over it. Made a sad face. "Ah, well—wah. Sad is me. Two hot boys and me caught in the middle; what a lovely, lovely picture we'd have made, yeah…" Then she sighed theatrically, pouting those lips of raspberry cream and shaking her head in a great show of woe. "Still. Don't believe I can do, sorry. Busy."

"Er." Al gaped at her; what sort of question was _that_ for one's steady? "Uh, but…Mandy!"

"Can't, luv," she said, shaking her long blonde tresses to and fro in a fragrant wave, on the off-chance Albus hadn't noticed them the first time. "It's dire, my life. No time to frolic. Not even for a threesome, delightful as it sounds."

"Thr-_**three**_?"

Al choked slightly, likely because he was shaking his head over her. Girls! What did they really _mean_, anyway? It was all nonsense to him! Then he blinked slowly, eyeing Mandy's mane. It was…so soft in appearance. So…pretty. And just the right length for grabbing and holding, in a spurt of passion.

"Oh, baby," Mandy trilled, petting his forearm in a soothing sort of way. "Not to worry, I was only poking at you a bit. Never mind it."

"Hair!" Al burst out, not thinking. Blushed, gulped and recalled that Mandy was only teasing, no matter how pretty her hair. "Ho! Ho-kay! Right, right."

Her hair was Mandy's pride and joy and her barely stifled jealousy over Scorpius's even lighter shade of pale blond was well known. Currently, though, she was all business, ticking off tasks on the tips of her painted fingernails.

"Poor, poor Al-babykins. I've really stuck my foot in it, yeah? Upset you. And I am so sorry, sweetpea, but I've revision for tomorrow's Charms quiz right after we're finished up Potions. You?" She glanced meaningfully at Al's text, open to the chapter. "What's on _your_ plate, Al?"

"Oh," Al shrugged, tapping a careless forefinger on a wriggling illustration, pinning down a partially sliced line-and-ink Flobberworm. He was happy to return to a subject he knew: academics. "We-well, Scorp and I already went over it, this morning. Do alright, I think. Hit it again on the way back, likely. You know we always swot together." He paused, not wishing to lose sight of his pretty girl quite so soon. "Um—then, Mandy, if not the Squ-Sqi-_Lake_, maybe…maybe we could go off to Ho-Hogsme—?"

"Pity," Mandy tilted her pretty chin and cut him off, sending him a sly, glittery glance from under her very long lashes, "as _I _was wondering if you might like to join me at my revision group; give me some additional pointers. You know how hopeless Courtney Creevey is at the Higher Charmwork …but if you've already got plans?" She nodded meaningfully towards Scorpius, who was studiously not listening. "With him?"

"Oh," Al went to shrug again and then stopped, midway thru, flushing as he twigged—this was _Mandy_, inviting him for once! "Oh! No! I haven't, really. Squid's not that important—neither's the village, either; been there thousands of times. And never mind old Sco-Scorp here." He shrugged. "And, erm, well, if that's the case and you'd rather, then sure, I could tag along to your revision thingy—but only if you think I'd be of real help to you—_not _that I'm all that, as I'm n-not—Scorp here is better at Ch-Charmwork than I am, you s-see—"

Sadly, even from a supposed safe distance, Al's best mate's ill effect upon his lingual centre was beginning to bleed over.

"Pish-tosh, Al," Mandy's laughter was a sprinkle of brilliant silvery tinkly noises; she didn't seem to notice Al's alarming descent into disarticulation. She fluttered those lashes of hers like a cabaret dancer's fans—all swoopy, wafting up great scuds of air. "Everyone knows you ace anything old Flitwick throws at you without even blinking, even the NEWT's level material! Of course I'd adore to have your help—that's why I'm asking, silly! And to spend time with you, of course."

"_Not _silly."

Scorp chose that moment to poke his disputed blonder-than-Mandy's-blonde head about Al's slim bulk and chime in with _his _two sickles; no one could say Scorp wasn't loyal to a fault.

"Nope. Uh-uh. Have to object to that. He's more than fair at it, Bones, him," Scorpius shrugged, lifting a careless thumb at his mate. "Don't let him tell you any different. Idiot's got some esteem issues. Comes of being Second at DADA."

"I!" exclaimed Albus, incensed, "I-I-I do _not_, ar-ar-arsehole!"

"Oh, I _know_," Mandy purred, laying a possessive hand over Al's jittering forearm, "just what you mean, Malfoy. Al and I…well." She squeezed the arm familiarly and Malfoy's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. Their eyes met and duelled a deathly dance, all across an obliviously sputtering Al's ducking head. "We get each other. Don't we—_darling_."

"Bu-bu-but!"

"See?" Mandy tossed her head; Scorp narrowed his grey eyes.

"Huh. Good, then." Al's mate nodded agreeably nonetheless, his good deed clearly done for the day: best mate's academic honour defended—check! "Glad to hear. Keep it up, then. Cheers! Well—bye, now."

He turned away. Kaspar instantly brightened up by a million watts, clearly sensing the opportunity for more Quodpot discussion with _his_ pash. Kaspar had a thing for Scorpius like no tomorrow. That was a given and accepted 'known', too.

"Oi! Hey-ack! Argh-er! N-N-Now, Scor-_Scorp_!" Al gargled frantically, skin turning a brilliant shade of rose that really only enhanced his green eyes. "No—no—no f-f-fair!"

"What?" Scorp swiveled back around again, eyebrows raised. "You need me?"

Overcome, Al reeled forward and then away from his best mate's sudden unexpected looming, a frantic motion that almost thrust him summarily into his girlfriend's lap. Chair legs scraped, skittering madly.

"_No_! Bu-Bu-Butt out! Sh-sh-shut-up, now!" he howled, red-cheeked and steaming. "Go-go-go'_way_!"

"Erm, oops." Scorp slumped into a lazy half-shrug, tipping a sideways wink at Al and grinning smarmily. Al went more scarlet-cheeked than even than Horntail flame, glaring at him. "So terribly…sorry."

"Gh-gh!-gah-shut!" Albus gabbled, making small shooing motions. "'Sh-sh-shhhh! Pah!"

"Albus, sweet?" Mandy frowned at them both, curious. "Is something the matter? Do you have something caught in your throat? I happen to know this great Muggle procedure—"

"Was I intruding, then?" Scorpius grinned even more widely at them both, cutting Mandy off without a qualm. "_So _my bad—really, I _am _apologetic, Bones. For, er, interrupting you two lovebirds. Ta, now."

He retreated abruptly back to his seat, tossing an offhand "Laters, mate!" over his shoulder at Albus as Kaspar instantly sucked him back into their previous discussion.

Al sat stymied, soundlessly opening and closing his mouth much like a recently aired-out goldfish.

"B-b-bas—**urrr**! Um!" he growled.

"Er…" Mandy, eyebrows quirking, eyed her most recent boyfriend somewhat askance. "It's true, then?"

"Ack—erm—what?" Albus's hectic colour was subsiding, now that Scorp was no longer _right there_. Mandy was, though—right there, that was. He had to gather himself together on the double. "W-What, Mandy? _What_ is?"

"Hmmm…"

She lifted a casual shoulder, showing off her creamy neck and delicate earlobe, accented with a tiny golden hoop. "About you two, Al, darling. What else? Seems to be."

"Oh-erm-um—ah?" Albus, shifting and fidgeting, darted a telltale glance towards his longtime friend, who was now intent on sketching out some sort of arcane Keeper's strategy used by players of old on a stray piece of parchment. It was clear Scorp wasn't minding them at all. "_Him_? You mean Scorp? Ah…yeah," Al bobbed his head, "Um. Sorry," he added, a bit shamefaced. "It's…ah. Can't help it, y'see. T'is an affliction. Been that way a long time now." He lifted a shoulder, let it slump. "We get 'round it."

"Charming!" Mandy giggled and leaned against him familiarly, bumping shoulders. "Oh, but I think it's utterly darling, darling," she cooed. "The two of you. _So_ sweet!"

"Sweet?" Al echoed loudly, startled. Of all things, he'd certainly never heard his little problem described as 'sweet'! "What d'you mean, Mandy? It's not as if I asked to be this way, you know? It just happens!"

He was red-faced again in seconds. More than a little angry, he huffed and turned his eyes straight to the Transfiguration Prof's chalkboard, jaw strung tighter than piano wire.

"It's always just happened," he muttered belligerently, kicking away at the table legs with a toe. "Sucks, is what, if you ask _me_." He pouted , pursing his lips and lowering his brows. Sniffed once.

"Oh, no, Al," Mandy giggled again, an infectious sound which, along with her decidedly fit form and long blond hair—and her extremely high scores in Herbology and Astronomy—had attracted Albus's interest in the first place. "That's not it!"

"No?' Albus cocked a suspicious eyebrow at her. "Because if you think it _is _a problem, Mandy, then you can just say so—I mean I'll get it."

"Absolutely not!"

"Oh, er?" Al boggled at her. She giggled again, leaning close and providing him a whiff of her signature fragrance, frangipani. "Er?"

"Of course not, Al. It's nothing, alright? Just it's so cute, how you go on. Really cute. Him, too, defending you."

"Huh?"

"Erm...look, see, I'll tell you later, 'kay? Class is starting."

And she did. Lengthily and with gossipy mauve-tinged details that would make a red-blooded Wizard cringe with distaste. Far from believing Al Potter was going about in some way 'handicapped' by Scorpius Malfoy, the student body had collectively concluded they were…'cute'. 'Cute, together,' even.

Gah! Buggerall!

Al clutched at his stomach, after, rocking to-and-fro on his bed in the dorms. Which was quite unsettling.

In fact, Albus, overcome by the mere thought of rearticulating in his head his girlfriend's reason for thinking his relationship with his best mate was 'cute' and 'sweet', was reduced to writing that self-same best mate a brief missive, along the lines of this:

_Dear Twat_, it read. _Mandy thinks it's cute that I stutter when I'm around you. She's of the opinion we are—and I quote—'adorable together'. Is this not incomprehensible? Are you aware of any others who might share her same oddball opinions? Because we really should put a stop to it. It's freakishly humiliating. Hexes come to mind. Doesn't your Dad know some good ones? My uncle Ron does. We should use them. Sincerely, your friend, Al_

He left this on Scorp's pillow, for easy reference.

_Ignore her, peckerhead_, Scorp wrote back, the next morning. _She'll get over it; they all do, your bints. Just wait it out. No biggie. S. Malfoy_

"Wh-wh-wh-?" Al demanded of his mate, right after lunch and on their shared way to DADA. The hall was crowded and they were forced together by the crush. "Ghurh!"

He shook his head, pulling face after face.

"Well, they do," Scorp replied, very reasonably. He shrugged a sensible shoulder. "I mean, they all have, before. Besides, why would you care? It's not as if you're losing out because of it, is it? She likely thinks it's hot or something. I'd've thought it would work in your favour. Nookie, old chap. Girls go for that, you know? Mad, they are, for the metros amongst us. Have you seen the Harry's and their twin-sons-of-different-mum's act? Like houses afire, mate!"

"Nhgh-nurr! Na-na-nah!" Al flapped his arms in bewilderment. "Ooogh?"

"Never mind, nitwit—just accept that girls go for that sort of thing. It's nothing to bother yourself with. Really. You do better oblivious."

"Urk!" Al snarled—he was not oblivious!

…But, he let it go. Scorpius was the acknowledge 'people person' of the two of them. What Scorp said was likely true. And it hardly mattered: Mandy was all over Al like flies on aging Thestral shite.

And there the matter rested, for ages. Till Seventh Year came, and Albus had moved on to Nissa. Nissa was spritely, vivacious and Slytherin. Nissa wanted him and Scorp to join her at the weekly Friday night common room party to play 'Truth or Dare' with the Slyths. Nissa never let up about it.

Al shrank from the very idea. He was seventeen now—so was Scorpius—and he knew a few things more than he had—or would admit.

One of them was that his best mate reeked charisma. Another one was that his best mate was likely to surpass him in Runes and Astronomy. A third was that he'd be beating the pants off Scorp in Muggle Studies, DADA and Charms.

The last and most troublesome was that Scorpius…well, Scorpius was.

Scorpius was…no longer speaking to him. A'tall.

Not one word. Only gestures, scribbled notes and the occasional wink, nudge or pointed finger. And not many of those, not any more.

Scorp was thick as thieves with Kaspar, in place of Al. Also James Finnegan-Thomas, Delilah Vane-Pinkette and Agnetheus Plumpton-Filch. The Slytherin 'Harrys' and Caitlynn Parkinson-Boot—to boot!

Al didn't compute.

Scorp wouldn't talk to him. Refused to simply by not doing it. He'd moved on; had found himself a whole new gang to bash about with, apparently. And a new best mate, in the form of that noisome Kaspar. Blech!

Left Al barking. He just couldn't imagine what he'd done—how he'd offended his very best pal on earth.

It had been the summer it started, this decline; the first one in many moons they'd not spent in each other's pockets. Al was certain it was that three months they didn't really talk. Scorpius had gone off with his father to France and then on to Romania. Al had kicked around at his Dad's house in Godric's Hollow, doing much of nothing. There'd been a dearth of Owls. There'd been very few texts. No floo calls, either. Even Lily had stopped nattering on about the two of them being 'together' in that freaky way she had.

James, newly installed in the Ministry as Uncle Percy's assistant, had rejoiced.

"You're well shot of him, Al," James said. "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

"Shut_ up_!"

"Still…poor influence. Shouldn't be so dependent on him, little bro. Makes people talk."

"Shut. The. Fuck. _Up_!"

He'd thought it was temporary; that things would improve when school term started again in the autumn. They had not.

No joint study sessions in the Owlry at Scorp's insistence; no budging up against Scorp's hip on the Ravenclaw bench during mealtimes; no being left gawping and stupidly stuttering on a routine daily basis, whenever he and Scorp tried determinedly to chat in the conventional manner.

It was lonely as hell. And then—and then! Scorpius was made Head Boy.

And Al could murder him silly for that.

In cold blood…he would, too. It was a slap in the face. But only after he completely succumbed to the resounding lack of his best mate.

Al moped. Nissa claimed it made him 'cuter'. She liked 'emo' and promptly suggested eyeliner. Al just as promptly refused it.

Scorp did _not _appear to be mopey. He was completely unaffected, apparently. _No 'emo' eyeliner for that git! _Al fumed. And then sighed…moping.

Scorp had his own quarters as Head Boy and he spent his free time there. When he wasn't active in Quidditch, Duelling Club or poncing off to Hogsmeade with his latest squeeze. Scorp had taken on Apollyon's discarded mantel with a fine fervour—or so it seemed. He got around.

Al _ate_ jealousy as he ate books—routinely. He breathed anguish as he snorted the air currents above the Pitch. He shat spite and chomped on anger.

And at night he wept, silently, behind close-spelt bed hangings, for there was a hole in his heart big as Hogwarts and no one left to bandage the gap.

He didn't understand. And his former best mate wasn't telling.

It was the moment he found himself wanking whilst clutching one of Scorp's old discarded bookmarks, Al knew he was sunk.

Scorpius Malfoy—and it's more than time to hear his end of it, as he's being made the villain of the piece and he's _not_—was just as miserable as Al was, really. The private room was nice but it was empty excepting him. He liked the privileges Head Boys got handed them—but there was none to share them with.

He missed Al Potter something fierce. But.

It was for his own good, the twit. It was more than time…they drew apart. And Scorp wasn't so petty as to rub the Head Boy-ship in Al's face. Nor muddle up his last year. The most important year—the year of the dreaded NEWTS.

They, he figured, could be friends again later. Maybe. As soon as he stopped with the pointless urge to kill Nissa Pevenby-Stokes-Fudge and all the other bits o' muslin and pairs-'o-trousers Al shagged along the way.

As soon as he could smile naturally again at Al and not wish to snog him. Or fuck him blind in the Library. Bend him over the Boggart cabinet in DADA.

Across a random Potion's lab worktable. On the Great Hall's dais.

In Madame Puddifoot's, right in the midst of those soppy hand-holding fests he and that Slytherin slag Nettle Something-Something got up to every Hogsmeade Saturday out.

When he'd trumped Al Potter in every single NEWTS, acing them all. Because Al needed to be shown up, decidedly. He'd had his own way for far too long. That Potter influence could only buy him so much up the ladders of university life to come—and Scorp _was _better than he at Charmwork and even at DADA. Scorp loved Creatures and excelled at it; he absolutely topped out in Astronomy, every time. And Al lagged, trailing on Scorp's coattails and dragging him down, taking up valuable swotting time with his constant ramblings over how he 'didn't get' bints and he wasn't sure this one or that one was the 'the one' for him. 'Cause Al was a fluttering butterfly, tasting nectar at every flower, and a dyed-in-the-wool flirt. And it left Scorp grinding his back teeth in furious anger and hating every single person Al talked to—spoke to, that is, without defect.

Fair field of play, that's what. Scorp was going to triumph over Al on a fair field. They'd see which one was better, for once and for all, and there'd be no advantages lost or taken just because they were mates from way back. No—this was all about whom graduated Hogwarts as Valedictorian and Scorp was drop-dead determined to be the one.

…And if it was a bitter pill to swallow, this ungodly competition, than it simply was. They'd both get over it…be the better for it, in the long run.

He stuck to his cannons, too. Was brave and was manly, suffering silently and stoically—all through till the Christmas hols, when Al's idiot elder sibling popped up at Malfoy Manor uninvited one noontime and nearly handed him a heart attack when Scorp grudgingly handed over his cup.

"Er, look," James Potter was clearly vastly uncomfortable. "Something to say to you." He wasn't so much sitting on the settee in Scorp's parlour as perching nervously. "You and Al. You're, erm, feuding or something? I mean to say—what's going on with you? You fight over a girl? A test score?"

"No!" Scorp was shocked to the core. James Potter had never once been particularly civil to him, unless it was under the beady eyes of either his Mum or his Dad. "Wh-what?" he gurgled, taking a leaf out of Al's book. "What makes you say _that_?"

"Miserable little sot," James replied succinctly, swallowing down his tea with decided rude gulp. "Grim-like. Thinner, Mum says. Not happy."

"Er, ah?" Scorp blinked warily as James reloaded his plate. There went all the crumpets. "Er…Al? Are you speaking of your brother? And…you believe this has something to do with me?"

"Yep," James crunched up two biscuits at once in an alarming display of teeth and crumbs. Drank down his refilled tea and held out the cup for yet more. "Er, sorry. No time for luncheon. Uncle Perce's a real pain in the arse like that. More, please?"

"Oh!" Scorp fumed. "Fine! Here!"

He waved a hand and everything was magically topped up. Which was good, as James Potter appeared to making up for several luncheons and not just the one.

"Thanks, squirt. Can I call you that, squirt? Good-oh. Right, then. Under a deadline, here—things to accomplish; only an hour. You know how it is, right?"

"Er…no, actually. But-But I don't see why you'd think this has anything to do with me…" he ventured, after the flurry of chomping had eased off. "I mean, we're still mates. Al and I are."

"Mates, yes," James nodded, helping himself to the entire tray of crustless sandwiches, even as he polished off the lemon squares, "sure. But—"

"But?"

"Little git wants more than that." James frowned as he swallowed. Eyed Scorp knowingly. "Hell, thought you were an item, all these years. Mean to say, how could you dump him like that, Malfoy? Unconscionable!"

"Hey!" Scorp's jaw dropped. His tea cup wavered, sloshing. "Oi! It's not like that!"

"T'is."

"It. Is. Not!" Scorp interposed firmly. "I have never—we have never—"

"Wants you something fierce, m' little brother. Like to shag you; dunno why, but there it is. Fact, man. Wasting away he is, pining after you. Moony. Makes me ill, I tell you—but."

"B-But?" Scorp said again, reluctantly. "But nothing!" He recalled himself the next instant. He'd not invited James Potter to come and rail at him over Al—no, he had not!

Point in case: he absolutely despised the way James had barged in and bloody commandeered the discussion. Or, for that matter, speaking generally and historically, he despised _James Potter_, the person responsible for much of the flack Scorp had received during James's Hogwarts years. "Look, arsehole, I don't know what you're getting at, but A's seeing that bitch-_bint_ Nessa Something-Something, from Slyth, and we're no more like that than you and that Apollyon fellow were, back in the day. See? Comprenez vous, git? So, I don't comprehend your problem, Potter, but you've got it all arse-backwards."

James blushed, right smart. Swallowed harshly and shrugged.

"Yeah, well," he mumbled. "Me and App—we're seeing one another, as it happens. Have been. I mean. Stranger things happen, alright?"

"Wh-what? What, what?"

Scorp was shocked. To the core. This was a piece of news he'd certainly never caught wind of—and he'd lay odds Al didn't know, either. Would've mentioned it, wouldn't he, when they talking—oh, yeah. They weren't speaking. Didn't talk a'tall. Not now.

Not for a long time.

Shite.

"Um," Scorp offered tentatively, not certain as to how to greet a revelation of such a personal nature from a chap he barely knew. "That's super. I think. Congrats and all that—wish you happy, yeah. But—erm. What's Al got to do with it?"

"Arse over teakettle for you, git. Was just saying. You deaf, Malfoy?"

"He's! He's not!"

"Is. Can prove it. Has a drawer full of Owls he's not sent and he brought you a really decent present for Christmas—didn't send that over either, did he?' James shrugged. "Miserable little sod, I tell you. Likely thinks you want no part of it—or him. Bloody idiot."

"I." Scorp gulped. "I don't believe you."

"Believe it," James leveled a brilliantly blue stare at him. "He's mad, gagging after your arse. Wanna hit him."

"Why did you come here?" Scorp demanded abruptly. "Just—just. Did you—did you think I'd just fix it? That'd I'd just show up on your sodding doorstep at Godric's and fall into his arms? Cause I'm not. I won't. It's—" he blinked fiercely. "It's better this way. Better for your stupid brother; better for me. I can't let—"

"You know," James, having neatly consumed nearly all the tea available—the parts Scorp hadn't snatched for himself and kept aside—had summoned a toothpick and was working away at a scrap of romaine lettuce wedged in his one canine. "You know…" he mused, interrupting Scorp rudely. "You've got the wrong end of the broomstick, Malfoy. I mean…look at you. Look like crap, actually, now that I'm seeing you. Are you always this pale?"

"Oi!" Scorp flushed, absolutely furious. "No need to insult me—"

"M'not insulting you. Am observing," James interjected reasonably. "Not my place—well, it_ is_ my place or I wouldn't be here. Idiot's m'little brother, after all; gotta stand by him, right?"

"Uhhh…"

"He's a mess—_you're_ a mess. Look at you. Look like shite, both of you. Get it together, why don't you? Stop this foolishness in its tracks, yeah?"

"No!" Scorp blinked, gulped and stuck a hand out, palm flat. "No-no-no!"

"Yes." James consulted his pocket watch. "You will, both of you little gaspers. Time to stand down, now. Enough of this. He'll be at Fortesques's in less than five, Malfoy. Told him to meet me there; he'll come if he knows what's good for him—App's minding his arse. Here. Look—see?" And he held out his watch on its chain and Scorp was foolish enough to grab at it. "I'll show you."

"Ah!" Scorp yelped, nearly dropping his cuppa as they whirled away. Fucking watch chain was a Portkey! "Ah-ah-**ahhhhhh**!"

"Heh."

"Hey, lover," Apollyon Zabini—he of the incredible reputation and more incredible good looks—greeted them; Scorp with a glancing once-over and James with enthusiasm. In fact, he bussed James on the cheek and took his arm familiarly. "Missed you."

"Hey!" James replied warmly. "C'mere, sweet cheeks—missed you, too."

He snogged Apollyon readily, not minding the eyes popping wide all about them, both from strangers and close relatives nearby. Because Apollyon the Admirable was accompanied by a very whey-faced Al Potter, who trailed the group by several feet—and was completely and overtly occupied digging his toe into the close-set cobbles and blinking furiously at his trainers when the stones didn't so much as budge.

"Hmmh-right. Brought him along, just like you wanted, luv," the fabulous Zabini said, when he had the chance to speak, some considerable later. "Wet blanket. Oh! Hey, squirt." He glanced at Scorp a second time, arching a black brow in a serenely handsome face. "I can call you squirt, right? Right-oh. How's it hanging, squirt?"

Scorp snorted.

"As to _that_!" he began.

"Brill," James Potter replied and promptly confiscated his watch chain from Scorp's lax grip. "Thanks, mate. Er…look, you can let go now, squirt. Party's over. We're here."

The cup did drop, the one Scorp still carried, straight out of suddenly nerveless fingers. Bounced once, rolled over and the handle parted ways from the bowl.

"Ahhhhh!" Scorp scowled blackly and finished his previously interrupted shriek. "_**What the fuck**_?"

"Well, more just begun, lover," Apollyon grinned. "Yeah? Look at 'em, do. Eyes only for each other. Minds me of you, luv—early days, yeah."

James Potter cooed at him. Scorp retched—but more due to his changed circumstances than regular revulsion over PDA.

They were indeed _here_. In Diagon, right before the ice cream parlour both—all—their parents had taken them to for treats when they were younger. There were the requisite crowds of knee-and ankle-biters; there were parents abounding, all eyes glued to the sight of a tall ginger haired Wizard snogging a willowy, mocha-toned and extremely fit fellow Wizard with abandon and verve.

"A-hem!" Scorp cleared his throat loudly. "A-HEM!"

"Eh?" James Potter ripped his mouth off Zabini's and stared across at Scorp as if he'd lost his mind. "What're you caterwauling for? M'trying to help you—mewling li'l pipsqueak, aren't you? Merlin! App, what's with the younger generation these days?"

"I'm sure I don't know, ducks," Apollyon crooned, petting James cheek fondly, "but we should make tracks. Eh?" He nodded, ever so wisely, and dropped a wink in Scorp's direction. "Time's wasting—precious shagging time, Jimmy-boy. Can't have that."

"Ji-Jimmy-boy?" Scorp choked. "_Seriously_?"

"Er! H-H-Hiya, Sc-Sc-Scorp." Al shuffled forward finally, blushing and—as per usual—stuttering. His 'usual'—Scorp had missed it so much, that. He gulped hard, as there was a giant ungainly lump suddenly blocking his gullet. This, he had not been expecting! Oh-fuck-no! "How—how—how?" he tried, looking miserable.

"Am I?" Scorp replied, finishing off Al's sentences as he always did. "Not well, thanks for asking. You?"

"Both, really," James was a talkative chap; wouldn't close his yap. "Box o' rocks, walking. Yes, babe—we're going, but. Him and you." He nodded his bright ginger head at the two younger boys. "Silly-arse gits, the both of you. Heads up your bums. Has to stop, that."

"Oh, shite on a stick—Merlin!" Scorp swore, realizing at last he'd been profoundly set up. "Shite, Al! Why're _you_ here? Did he hex you? I'll—I'll skin him!"

"No, no, none of that, squirt. He came willingly enough," James soothed him. "Oh, one more thing," he went on genially—and loudly, too, as his little brother was struggling to say something. He waved his wand over Al with a glad hand and great big grin. "There! Now you _have_ to er, uh…talk, Albie. Wears off in hour, alright? Have fun, lil bro'. Malfoy," he nodded. "Hurt his feelings, I'll tear you to bits. Ta, now."

"W-W-Wa—!" Al shouted at last, having overcome his hesitation. "Shhh-sshtth! Shite! _James_!"

To no avail. The fabulous Zabini and the genial James were gone—disApparated. Arm-in-arm, and chattering away a mile a minute of rushed quickies before James had to report back to 'Unk Perce'.

"Shite, fuck," Scorp scowled after a long moment of not looking at Al. "What'd he do to us? To you, mate?"

"Er? I—I dunno? Um…Scorpius. Scoooorrrr-peeee—usss. Hey!"

"Fuck!" It was cry from the soul of a Malfoy—a despairing cry. "Eh, why're you saying my name, mate? I'm right here—and worse, why ever did he have to kidnap us like this? I mean, I was starving—he ate my tea!"

"Um," Al said earnestly, budging up very close and snaking a hand onto Scorp's bent elbow. "Thisa is good—this is super, yeah. H-Here, Sc-Scorp. Come on. Th-this way."

"Oi!" Scorp was surprised. "Oi, now, Al. What's'it? Where?" They were abruptly in the alley behind Fortescue's, for one thing, and Al was speaking nearly normally to him, for another. "Whaaaat? What's going on? Why'd you shift us, Al? And why can I understand you, more to the point?"

"The sp-spell. James," Al gestured broadly. "James has. B-Been working o-on it fo-for." He gestured again, all down his front. "M-Me-Me. Chris-Christmas present, see?" He shrugged. "For you—me. So we can—can—can—"

"Talk?" Scorp ventured.

"Ye-yeah." Al huffed a sigh, sagging back against the dim and dirty bricked wall. "Yes. Please. _Now_."

Scorp gawped, even though he was not given to such puerile acts. He was terribly awkward over it, too, but then the whole situation was…terribly awkward. What with the kidnapping and James Potter providing him unasked-for relationship advice and then—the very grubby alleyway they were standing in, staring at one another like utter ninnies in close-kept privacy. Scorp swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly. His bloody throat was sore from swallowing so often. It would explain why it was his voice cracked, yes.

"I…I can't quite wrap my brain 'round this all—I mean, pardon _me_, alright? But I've just been kidnapped, Al, and this is an outrage, see?" Scorp was working himself up to a snit, jittering from foot to foot. "He just burst in, alright? You bloody brother! Ate up the whole damned tea and then dragged me—literally dragged me!"

"P-Please? Just—shut—up?"

"And you! What did he do to you, just now?"

"Oh! For fuck's sake!"

Al impelled his person off the nearby wall where'd he fetched up and laid both hands gently on Scorp's shoulders. They trembled with palsy—as did his lips when they landed upon Scorp's parted ones. Out of the clear blue—no warning.

"Ah?" Scorp gasped. "A-Al?"

"Pl-Please, mate?" his best mate whispered, looking very anxious indeed. "Please-may-I? Cause I wanna. So bad, Scorp."

"Oh!"

Blinking and flushed and generally also looking to be at his charming best, was Albus Potter. Shy, too, and that _was_ the finest sort of manner for one Albus Potter to be—painfully shy, like he didn't quite get it. Didn't clue. Wasn't all on. As if he didn't catch at all that Scorp was dying for the sheer want of him and had been wanking off to recollections of shared showers for ages. That to be apart as they'd been for so long had nearly murdered him; that no competition over NEWTS scores was worth all the dingy grey emptiness that was his most deathly-dull boring life, _sans_ a shy Al Potter.

"…Al?" Scorp jogged from foot to foot; his crotch was an unbearably hot and heavy location. "Al?"

"Ki-Ki-Kiss me? Back, I meant. Please, Scorpius?"

"Fuck!"

Really—it was just too, too much for one man to stand for. Scorp snogged Al as he'd never snogged before then. He simply had to. No recourse.

"Al!" he gasped, when they drew apart. "Al!"

"Can't—can't quite manage—" Al mumbled instantly, blushing and looking everywhere but Scorp's startled gaze as he fiddled with one of Scorp's robe's buttons, "with-without _you._ Sc-Sc-Scorp. Care for you. Yeah. So, um. Shag now?"

"Al!" Scorp had no need to proclaim he cared; his cock was doing it for him, loud and clear.

"Sh-Sh-Shag _me_?" Wet and barely audible, the words were murmured into Scorp's Adam's apple. He felt a trail of damp seeping from above that—the git was crying?-and tightened his grip on Albus, so tight as to squeeze yet more suddenly not-a'tall-difficult to understand phrases out of him. "He-here, please?" Al went on doggedly. "Now? Show-show me! Prove it, Scorpius—prove it to me, please. Won't believe you otherwise; I swear I won't!"

"Oh…oh, I—" Scorpius had always firmly clamped down on wayward thoughts of scenarios like this one. Didn't quite know what to do with them when they actually happened—were happening. "But—I—I—Al! It's a—it's an alley, Al!"

"Want you. S-so much," Al moaned, squirmy as a crup pup against Scorp's thundering chest. "Don't care 'bout that. Can Sh-show me you want? T-Too?"

"You!"

"Was stu-stupid. Didn't k-know. You, either?" Al's ears were red. "But—but now—please? S'different?"

"You can talk!" For whatever reason—and perhaps it was the Portkey experience—Scorp felt he was very slow on the uptake suddenly, at least for a Raven. He blinked. "You can!"

"Um…ye-yeah," Al peered up at him, blinking. "For-for a little. D'you?"

"I can _hear_ you!"

"Ye-Yes…"

"You sound—you _sound _marvellous," Scorpius was processing one thing at a time. Just the one. "Your voice, mate!" He had to—it was too much, all at once. Too much. Al wanting him in return; Al wanting them to shag here, in public, behind a shop in the Alley. Al wanting him _enough _to shag him—_him_, at all! "I've—I've never once heard you say—not to _me_, at least—oh, Al!"

He was just so chuffed. Over the moon with it. His damned eyes were moist with it, more fool him! But he couldn't seem to cease babbling on at Al, who stared and stared at him like a ruddy moonling, lips partially parted.

"You realize I've been after your arse for eons—you're so—and then I—but then you—and I couldn't bear, not this year, Al," Scorp shook his head sadly. "I—just couldn't. That Nessa, she—"

"Isn't," Al shrugged casually enough though his eyes glittered. He embraced Scorp a bit more tightly. "A-And it's _Nissa_—but isn't. Mine any-any l-longer. O…kay? So..? Shag now?"

"Ye-yeah?" Scorpius's jaw flapped. "Can't be! But it was so—I mean I thought—I was under the impression, _surely_—"

"N-No."

"She had her claws in you so deep, mate, and it's been since last May! I mean, you barely had time for me; I know I was away and all but you never—never Owled back when I was overseas, not till days later, if then and I—"

"No!" Al flailed in Scorp's arms. "No-not so! It was you—you, Scorp! You were the one-the one who—"

"No, it wasn't," Scorp frowned instantly—this just simply wasn't true. "Not in the beginning. I was just doing the usual; didn't think anything of it. I always—give you—space…"

"You shouldn't have—"

"But it's what we _do_—" Scorp whinged. "Al—I. I only wanted the best—"

"I don't want it!"

Scorp blinked. "Er?" Swallowed. "You…you don't. W-Why not?"

Silence, with Al staring hard at Scorp's droopy collar points and mangled tie, and the both of them shivering because they'd foolishly forgotten warming spells and it was the dead of winter. Boxing Day, actually. Scorp blinked. Al's skin was as pale as the lowering cloud mass hovering above them, promising snow. It was miserably cold; he was uncomfortable, but…some things were more important than shite like that.

"…Why not, Al?"

"You." Al mumbled darkly at last, frowning as blackly as Scorp had ever seen him. "En-enabled me. Lily s-said. Made it wor-worse. Th-this." He freed a hand from where it was clamped to Scorp's ribs and waved it vaguely, indicating the both of them, but him in particular. "Encouraged it. So I-so I always and ev-ever stu-stut-_cou'dn't talk to you_!" finished, rapidly and red-faced. Snorted and stamped a foot. "O-Oaf! Do—do-gooder!"

"What—oh!" Scorp paled. Flushed immediately. "Bloody hell, mate—I didn't intend to!"

"Well." Al folded his lips thin, glowering. "Y-You did. Was you, Sc-Scorp. All this time."

"Bu-bu-bu—"

"Shhh!" Al stamped his foot, accidently-but-maybe-not planting it upon Scorps's big toe in the process.

"Ye-ouch!"

"Enough! I'm—I'm—b-better, now. For a little. Ja-James said. So—snog me, Scorp. Let's shag."

"Here?" Scorpius blanched, glancing 'round. "It's filthy, Al. I want a bed, okay? I don't do walls."

"P-Prude!"

"Am not! Wanting the proper atmosphere isn't at all prud—mmph!" His protests were stifled; he grunted. "Mmm-_**nnnh**_—uh!"

"Hush—your—m-mouth—and—s-snog—me, mate," Al purred, peppering Scorp's jaw with kisses and nips. "Here—_**now**_—sh-show me, alright? Wanna do it—wa-waited so long—o-only human!"

"Oh-fuck!" Scorp gasped. "Sod me!" He nodded, using his free hand to begin the wrenching off of robes and clothes. "Fuck you. Want you—so bloody! A-Alright—if—" He closed his eyes briefly when Al bit right through the fabric of his shirt to a pebbled nipple. "Only if—ah—ahahah! Thass'good, Al—oooh! Just like that—so hot! Hot, Al! Why're you so freakin' hot?" he asked rhetorically. "Wanna come just tou—"

"Dunno. But shut it. And hold still, 'kay? Coming up."

Al, never one to let grass grow, muttered a Banishment spell. His trousers and pants disappeared, as did his trainers—as did all Scorp's clothing, below the waist, at least. They were left only with their winter robes rustling in the chill and their partially unbuttoned, slightly damaged shirts and jersies, the vests rucked up and high-riding under sweaty armpits. Scorp shivered either with cold or excitement as Al clasped a knee tight 'round his suddenly bared waist and proceeded to hop about like a mad heron. In a frantic moment he'd managed what he'd been attempting: spine pressed to the bricks for leverage and both legs firmly hooked on Scorp's hips, ankles crossed.

"Th-there!" he exclaimed triumphantly, yanking Scorpius closer, so their dicks brushed against one another and Scorp was forced to moan aloud, teeth chattered. "N-Now shag me—and—and—_use_ something f-first, git. First time!"

"Of course I will—arsehole," Scorp growled, affronted. He dug his fingers into the empty air and came up with a palm-full of goo. "Think I would ever—ever, mind you—really, Al? First time?"

"Shu-shut it—don't talk—and yes! Stop asking questions, Scorp. Just do it!"

"Buggerall!"

"Yes!" All nodded furiously. "Like I said—bugger! _Me_, **now**, twit. Here, damn your eyes. Right here—right now."

"Fine," Scorp snapped. "Fine, then! I will, by Merlin—so! Stretching you!" Which he did promptly and perhaps he could've been a little kinder, but Al looked so very… and he had such a stiffie—and it was to be a fucking alley for his—_their_—first time, sod it all! "Entering, entering, now—wait for it. Hang tight, Al," he warned, not thirty seconds after. "It's coming! I just have to—have to—ungh!"

"Fucking—_f-fucking_—" Al's gasp was high and tight, just like his bumhole. "Errrgh—thass'it! Go, Sc-Scorp—**go**! And don't come yet, for gods sake!"

"Am!"

"Grrhhaah!"

"Going-ingg! Ngh..nnn..nnn..nnn-umm…" Scorp moaned nasally. Then he heaved a great sigh, one that practically deflated his entire body. "S'brill," he wheezed. "Brill-brill-brill!"

"Stop—stop bloody—talking!" All ordered. "Bite you if you don't shut the effing Merlin up! Shag, man—shag!"

"Prick."

"Yes! Stroke it, why don't you? Not hanging away there for nothing, Scorp! Bloody touch me!"

"—'kay!" Scorp nodded. "Ri-right. Yeah!"

With alacrity—as that was the way his light o' love wanted it—Scorp stroked and snogged and drove in and pulled out, root to tip and back again. In a frenzied hurry and only just taking the time to station his palm as a cushion behind the back of Albus's rocking head.

"Go-go-good?" he asked, getting well into the swing of it at last.

"Shh—shuuuut up!" Al howled rudely, clenching his eyes tight as they could go and squinching up his face as if he were in paroxysms of pain—which he was not. "Scorp! Scorpius! Come—coming!" he shouted. "Oh, bloody—_not_ yet. Don' wanna—argh!"

But he did—so Scorp did, as well, as his dick was gripped and flexed within a dark channel of pressurized bliss and he was seventeen—barely—and pretty well lost in the moment.

When they came to—having both gone wall-eyed and gaga for a staggeringly long moment—they were still in the dingy alleyway, it was still the day after Christmas and Al—when he ceased gasping—could still speak to Scorp.

An hour later, lounging about in Scorp's huge bed in his huge room back at the Manor, he was still talking. Hadn't stopped, actually.

"You've a nasty-arse tongue to you, Al," his best mate observed acidly, after Al hadn't shut his gob for a solid thirty minute spate. "Notice it earlier, in the alley. Bit glad I wasn't subject to _that_, all these years. Demanding little git, really. Push me around much? 'Shag me, Scorp!' he mimicked, waggling his brows. "'Shag me now, Scorp, or I'll bloody well hex you!'"

"Can it, mate, " Al advised him cheekily, his messy head propped up on a lax fist. "You love it—know you do. Your eyes are all dreamy, still. Look like smacked arse, Scorp. Pushover. Nancy-boy. I should talk dirty to you, now I can. Show you what for."

"Oh, ho!" Scorp rolled over and stuck his fingers out, wriggling them, at the ready for a bout of punishing ticklement. "Calling me names, now? Want me to reverse that spell your brother did, eh? Be glad to, you know—like the quiet, really."

"Oh, Scorp," Al giggled, rolling into the outstretched fingers and rubbing his naked person upon them, till they relaxed their claw-like stance and merely clung. "You didn't, not really. This," he announced, "this is much the better. I like this—loads."

"Um," Scorp cast his gaze over his new boyfriend. "Mmm…me, too," he allowed, flushing just a bit. "It's…it's nice, this."

"As your quarters'll be, when we're back at Hogwarts," Al added cheerily. "Hey, Scorp?"

"Hmmm?" Scorp, gathering Al closer, mumbled into his hair. "What, mate?"

"Will you be able to enlarge your armoire yourself or will need to ask the elves to do it? And what about pillows—should I bring my own over?"

"Er…what?" Scorp asked, startled. He shoved Al just far enough off to peer at him curiously. "What're you babbling about now, Al?"

"Your room, Scorp. If I can't be Head, then at least I can have a few of the perks, right? And that's one of the ones I craved most, actually. My own room, at last."

"But, but—" Scorp was discombobulated. He'd thought—he'd believed! Where had Al's academic bloodlust gone to? What was up with his best mate and fellow student? "I thought we both wanted to be Head Boy for the afters, Al? You know—all the opps, all the academic honours? You're saying you only ever wanted _privacy_? That's it?"

"Hmmm-hmm," Al nodded peaceably. "That's right, mate. My own room, is all."

"Huh?" Scorp—only child; to the Manor born—clearly hadn't a clue. He gaped. Al grinned, nodding at him.

"Look, er. Bunked with James, right? Home at Godric's?"

"Uh…huh, okay," Scorp nodded. "And your point is…?"

"Then a dorm room. Shot off to Hogwarts and bam! Four of us together; six years in a row of that. Everybody all lumped in, and dirty socks and people wanking without silencing spells and so on, till I'm sick to death of it, alright? Had enough."

"…Oh." Scorp's eyes widened. He glanced about his massive bed—shared by no one till Al had been tipped into it by an amorous Scorp, not an hour previous—set like a jewel in his massive room. In his quite capacious home, situated in the midst of a rather enormous holding. "…Ahhhh!" he finished. "Right, right—I see what you mean, Al, yes."

"Right," Al smiled. "So—er. 'bout the loo. How large is the shower and is the bath separate? There a bidet, by any chance?"

"Wait!" Scorp squeaked, raising a flattened palm at his boyfriend. "Whoa ,there, Albus-my-friend, my pal! What's all this, then? You're moving in with me just to hie your narrow arse out of the dorm? Taking advantage of my resources just because we're shagging now? Tell me, mate, how is that the action of a proper boyfr—"

"Idiot arse," Al biffed him, but fondly, and wasted no time snuggling back up against an offended Scorpius. "That's not half of it. Wanna sleep with you—in privacy, mind—'cause I _want_ to sleep with you, git. Just you. Only you. And, er…talk with you, of course. And swot, and nap. All that rot we do together anyway. Just…you and me, though—at last. You know—" He nudged Scorp familiarly. "Real roomies. In a flat, like. Be a good practical experience, I think, before…"

"Before?" Scorp's suspicion-narrowed grey eyes went owlishly round; he tilted his chin questioningly at Al. "Er…_Flat_, you say?"

"Come on, Head Boy," Al poked and chided, sticking his little red tongue and flapping it. H walked his fingers up Scorp's bare chest, watching with delight as Scorp flushed. "A Valedictorian-to-be ought to be able to sort when he's been propositioned. What d'you think I'm hinting at, here? Hmm? Why'd you think I really, _really_ wanted a chance to talk with you today, huh? It wasn't just for the possibility of random wall sex I agreed to go to Fortescue's with App, you know. It was for _you_—I_ had_ to speak with you, Scorp. Finally, for real—and not our usual manner, either, alright? Full sentences, Scorp—I wanted 'em. For—for_ you_."

"But, Al, it's alright," Scorp interjected fretfully. He scowled blackly, but it was clearly at his recollections and not at the young man nestled in his arms. "I mean to say, I'm accustomed to it. Have been, mate. And there's not a thing wrong with you, Al. Never was, really-it's all down to me, anyway. That caused it. I mean _my_ fault, Al—all this time. Dunno how you can forgive—"

"Shhh, you!" Al jabbed his brand-new lover firmly in the sternum, momentarily fierce. "Let me finish, alright? Erm, um, _as _I was saying…Scorp, you're. Well, you're important to me. I, er…" he blushed rosily, and act which promptly melted Scorp's semi-mushed-out heart completely, to the point where he seriously feared liquid would spill from his naval. "I, um, like you, mate. Like _like_ you. Wanted to tell you that—ever since James said he could arrange it for me. And he did do, didn't he? Not all sodding bad, my brother. Has his moments."

"Al!" Scorp leapt at him, clutching wildly. His eyes—no, his features, all the sharp-set angular handsome lot of them—took on a brilliance reserved generally only for Christmas and birthday mornings and—most lately—shagging sessions with his best mate. "Al, I take back what I said before about the talking! Talking is good—we should talk more, in fact. Keep on with the talking, mate—do! Plea—mmph!"

Finite


End file.
